


To Boldly Go

by HelldiverOfLykos



Category: Sherlock (TV), Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Garridebs moment, Khanlock, M/M, Not Really Character Death, Slow Burn-ish, Star Trek AU, Treklock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 22:53:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9349802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HelldiverOfLykos/pseuds/HelldiverOfLykos
Summary: Sherlock is brilliant, and is offered a chance for even greater brillance. But he turns it down in favor of freedom. In favor of John.But when John's life hangs by a thread, Sherlock makes the only choice he can, and threatens their freedom, their relationship, and their lives...___________This tells a story of the promise of love, the pain of loss, and the joy of redemption. All the way from the very beginning to the very end. Through time and space, through happiness and sadness, this is the story of Sherlock and John.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Today is a bad day. A very bad day. Which I tried to make better by watching my favorite movie (Star Trek Into Darkness), and somehow, this came out. Hope it helps with what is going on right now, and remember: love conquers all...

How did it come to this? I was on the side of angels, though I never was one of them, but I never thought I would get here. I once saw the world as black and white, right and wrong, good and bad. But now, I see greys, shadows, highlights and lowlights. I see the subtleties in the world around me. Lines have been blurred, shadows have been cast, and things once in plain sight are now hidden from view.

I once believed in doing the right thing, no matter what. People said I was a great man. Some even believed I was a _good_ one. People like John believed I had good in me even when I never saw myself as one of them. But now, I have become something none of them would ever have thought I would become.

I have hurt, I have loved, I have killed and I have protected. I have blood on my hands, and I prevented the shedding of it. But all that matters to me is the life of a good man. A man better than anything I could ever be. He saw the beauty in everything. He loved life. He loved me.

I wonder if he could see beauty in what I have become.

________________

We met almost entirely by chance. In the constantly flowing, warping fabric of time, space, and existence itself, I met someone who changed my entire life. His name is John Watson.

I remember how he looked at me the first time I spoke to him. How he reacted when I made a deduction about him. I saw the light in his eyes and the gentleness of his hands. I saw the strength and the weakness. I wanted to see him again. I felt warmth stir in my chest and felt its tendrils wrap around my heart. I didn't even know I had one at the time. But I soon realized it for what it was, even if it was not in that moment.

I remember having dinner with him. We had just met up again the previous day, and he had already decided to join me on a case. I was just as surprised as Lestrade had been. Nobody had ever shown such a liking to me as he had. And I had certainly never taken a liking to anyone as I had to him. I barely suppressed a blush when he asked if I was attached. I told him I wasn't. He said he wasn't, either. Good, he had said. Turned out that he was right. It had been a good thing.

We chased a cab that night. We got chased as well. We had tumbled into Baker Street giggling like madmen. I had never felt so happy. So alive. I remember the smile on his face and the sound of his laugh, echoing through the quiet hallway. I knew in that moment that I wanted to be with this man for the rest of my life. I also knew that I would do anything in my power to protect that smile, that laugh, this beautiful life contained in the fragile, jumper-clad body of John Watson.

He killed for me that night. I saw the determination in his eyes, the steadiness of his hands. I almost gambled with my life. I could have lost it. But he saved it for me. I never would have thought it possible for him to have grown such an attachment to anyone within such a short period of time, but then again, here was the proof. A dead body, one bullet, and one very alive Sherlock Holmes.

Needless to say, I was addicted. I had experienced the high of drugs before, but never the high of life with John. He was my conductor of light, my heart and soul, my compass for not just morality, but life itself. It might seem strange to you that I am using such phrases, but when you love someone the way I love John, you will understand.

We slipped into a routine of domesticity. I solved cases, he wrote about them, he had my back and I had his. He had horrifyingly objectionable female partners, all of them insipid and so very forgettable. I pushed my feelings for him deep within my chest. He had the right to choose whatever made him happy. Who was I to keep him prisoner? It didn't matter what I felt. I wanted to do everything to keep him happy.

Then Jim Moriarty came along. He made me play his twisted game. I allowed him to make me. I was bored. But John had been horrified and sickened. He saw the joy and nonchalance with which Moriarty claimed each of his victims. He didn't like it at all. But still he stayed by my side, firm and constant, like a landmark in the ever-changing landscape of time.

I saw the fear in his eyes at the poolside. I saw it in the tremors of his hands as he revealed the Semtex strapped around his chest. I saw it in the shaking breaths he took. But I also saw courage when he took Moriarty by surprise. The set of his jaw, the determination in his voice. Then he saw the laser sight dance across my face.

Moriarty left after a while. I stripped the bomb vest off John. I threw it as far away as I could from him. He should never, never be put in such danger because of me. But then Moriarty decided to pop back in and play a wild card. I trained my gun on the Semtex vest. I looked at John, and our eyes met. With one nod, I knew he was willing to die with me to take down this monster.

We didn't have to die that night. But a new side of John had been revealed to me.

And another side was revealed with the appearance of Irene Adler. She was trying. She thought I had feelings for her. I didn't. But John had feelings about her. Jealousy. Annoyance.

I had wondered why. It seems so funny to me now why I had been so blind. But it turned out in the end that he had feeling for me, too. He had never voiced them to me, but I knew. I always knew.

Then we parted ways. Not because we wanted to. But because it was necessary. It was his life or mine. I chose for him to live. Obviously.

But it was not without consequences. I watched him mourn me at my gravestone at the head of an empty plot of land. I saw the heaving of his chest in the silence of our flat as his sobs echoed in the rooms he believed we would never share again. I saw his wounds start to heal from afar as I tore apart Moriarty's web of criminal connections. I saw him leave and fill the cracks in his heart with someone else. Mary Morstan.

She looked beautiful that night. I knew I could never compare to her. John trusted her. I had broken the trust between us. That was something that was not easily repaired. He attacked me. I saw the anger, the bitterness, the fiery rage in his blue eyes. I saw a bone-deep sorrow and vulnerability in that moment. He cared. He truly did care. And I deserved every blow he gave me. The hands that so often had healed my wounds and stitched up the slashes in my flesh opened up sutures in my back. They unknowingly created scars that would never fade. He would later grieve over the pain he had caused me, the indelible marks slashed across my skin, but I would kiss away his tears and forgive the sins he never committed.

He almost died soon after. He was put into a bonfire and was almost set alight. I had dragged him out of the pile of gasoline-soaked wood, trying once again to save his life. It worked. He returned to my life as well. He joined me on a case to find a missing train compartment. We did find it. We also found it had been turned into a bomb. I was an arsehole to John in those moments. I'll gladly admit I was. But he forgave me for leaving him behind. It was worth it.

Soon, the day I dreaded came. John and Mary's wedding. I delivered my speech and solved an almost-murder. John saved a life. And I watched as the man I love slipped seemingly beyond my reach. I smiled and hid the tears I was aching to cry. I smiled for him. I wad happy for him. I wished him happiness in my heart, I truly did. I lied for his happiness' sake.

But nobody knew what we did behind closed doors. I taught him to waltz for his wedding. I savoured the silent brush of his skin against mine. I let him hold me in a way meant for someone else. Or so I thought. He bared his heart to me on his stag night. He said the three words I thought he would never direct at me. He pressed his lips to mine. And he went much further with me than I ever dreamed he would go. He healed my heart and broke it apart in the same moment. I didn't care. All I cared about was him. So I did my best to make him feel better. We fell asleep side by side that night. We whispered words that nobody heard but us. We realized the future we could have had, but was far beyond our reach. It was too late.

It wasn't long before a new case came. Charles Augustus Magnussen. The master blackmailer. We set out to free the souls under his grip, to destroy the vaults of Appledore. But in his office, I discovered a far more frightening truth. John's wife had lied. Not just to him, but to me as well. She saw me as a danger to her relationship with John. She shot me. She killed me. But John brought me back. I remembered why my heart beat. To protect him. To care for him. Some may think I am foolish to go so far and do so much for someone who was not free to return my feelings for him. All I can say is that in the end, it was worth it.

The truth came out. It always does. But in doing so, it broke John's heart. He was so angry. Angrier than when he found out I had faked my death to give him life. I was bleeding internally as his heart bled out. I saw his eyes turn cold and unfeeling toward his wife. I saw the mess I had made.

He never did forgive her. Not when he had the few minutes of privacy when we visited my parents for Christmas.

Then I shot Magnussen to protect him from the government. If I had told him what the true consequences of that action were, he would never have forgiven me, either. I was sentenced to death. A suicide mission. I stood on the tarmac, mere steps away from the plane that would fly me to my doom, away from Lomdon, away from John. I lied to him. But I could see in his eyes the words unspoken between us.

_I love you._

I got high just to say goodbye. I almost died on the plane. But a twisted plot brought me back. Back to London, back to John. I was brought face to face with demons that walked among us, and those that live within our minds. I met the East Wind, and I stared her down. There are a great many memories that were corrupted, but one factor was constant. John Watson was always there for me.

In the end, he came back. Mary was dead. The baby wasn't his. He moved back into Baker Street. And that very night, he said to me the three words that always hung unspoken between us. He showed me the heights of pleasure that night. He touched me in the most tender and loving ways. He fulfilled my wildest dreams and more. 

I woke the next morning in his bed, watching the sunlight paint streaks of light over his face. I watched as he opened his eyes and pressed his lips to mine. I fell into his embrace as he whispered promises of love to me.

It lasted forever in my mind. We seemed immortal as we watchsd the world change and flex around us. Technology advanced. People came and went. Soon, the very ends of the universe were being explored by brave men and women that dedicated their lives to going boldly where no one had gone before.

Crime also advanced. People got more and more creative. So did we. John and I could never be separated in what we did. We were the best of the best. So much so that I was offered a place in a eugenics program. They wanted to find a way to make people better, smarter, to improve their bodies and lives. I said no. They wanted to take me away from John. I couldn't allow that.

Then John got shot. It was a seemingly simple case that ended in the worst way possible. We both knew something like that would happen eventually. We just never anticipated what would happen because of it.

I watched as he bled out in my arms. Red, red, red, everywhere, on the cold, hard pavement, staining our clothes, dripping from my fingers and into puddles of gore. I watched as they took him from me and put him in the ambulance. I watched as the blood dried around the edges of our wedding ring. I watched as the doctors told me he moght never wake up. I watched as they told me they could save him with the same program that threatened to take him from me. I let them save him. But I had to let them take me as well.

We were Changed by them. Our DNA altered. Our bodies made more advanced. We could move faster, we could be stronger, we could think on the same level of über-brilliance. We could heal faster than any person on the street. John wouldn't die if he was shot the same way again. But we paid the price with our freedom. We were made prisoners, lab rats, we were treated as sub-human when we were in fact superhuman.

So we rebelled. All of us. We fought back. But only 73 of us made it out alive. We were captured and treated as criminals. We were put into cryostasis. And I watched as John was torn away from me yet again. 

Years later, I was revived by Alexander Marcus. He used my friends as leverage to force me to develop new technology for him. There was no choice to be made. I chose for John to live. And I gladly sacrificed my freedom yet again.

He renamed me as John Harrison. He allowed me to choose the first name. It seemed fitting. To use the name of the man I love. To remind me of why I did what I did. Would John have approved? Would he have smiled at me or looked away with shame? I do not know. Perhaps he would have seen my position and understood. Or he would have the the wonderful man he is, was, and always will be, unwavering morals, blue eyes, and all.

I escaped once again from a tyrant. But this time, I left John behind. I am still deeply ashamed that I did so. I had left him in danger, in a place I had never wanted him to be. I killed many to escape. I killed many more to draw Marcus out. He painted me as a criminal. Maybe I was nothing more than that in that moment. I did not care. I was prepared to do anything, anything at all to save John Watson.

He sent a Starship after me. The U.S.S. Enterprise. The bastard sent them my own friends, my comrades, and my lover packed into photon torpedoes to shoot me with. He threatened we with the 72 lives I cared about the most. And among them, the one life I could never afford to lose. There was no choice to make. I surrendered.

I met Jim Kirk and his crew. I deduced the current state of their ship. I revealed my true identity to them. _William Sherlock Scott Holmes-Watson, Consulting Detective Turned Genetically Altered Superhuman._ At least I was still the only one of my kind in the world.

Once again, I did something John would no doubt have frowned upon. I manipulated the captain into taking me aboard Marcus' ship. I gave them coordinants, I gave them instructions on how to board. I tricked Jim Kirk into bringing me with him onto the ship. But I miscalculated. He anticipated my betrayal. He stunned me with his phaser. But he did not factor in my recovery time. I beamed them back to their ship and beamed in my friends, my comrades, and John. My mission was accomplished.

Or so I thought. John was not among them. He had been taken out. He was being used as leverage against me. Again. They spoke such cruel words. They spoke of justice and honor. Where were justice and honor when my husband was taken from me? Where were justice and honor when we were taken as slaves? Where were justice and honor when my husband was used as a mere bargaining chip in a mind game in the name of The Right Thing?

I never realized that I said it all out loud. I never thought that I could ever have been so brash with my words. But I never thought that after all I did, they would give him back to me. They had heard about us. They had heard about how we disappeared. They had heard about our love. And they gave my love back to me. All because our love had been bold, had been brave, had broken all expectations and made history. Literally.

I believe I cried tears of joy. I believe that I ran all the way to John's cryotube. I believe that when his beautiful, _beautiful_ eyes opened and looked into mine, I saw love, a spark bright and incandescent, shining within them. I wax poetic with my words, but please believe me, I implore you, when I say that they are true.

And believe me when I say that when our lips finally met, after all those years apart, that it was like the very first time. After years and years separated through time and space, our love held true.

I killed many people to save one life. I am not sorry for that. I am only sorry that the values I had once stood for were forgotten by so many. That the work I had done with the man I love was now foolishness to the city I had lived and breathed. Did I do right? No. I was never one of the angels. But I had to become a demon to save one of them. A light yet untarnished by the darkness surrounding me and everything I touch. And he believes in me. He believes I can be more, that I can be better. And I can. But only with his help. Because he completes me. Though our Work had been forgotten, our love has broken the boundaries and limitations of this universe. We have made history with the story of our love. And because of his love, we can boldly go no matter where time and space lead us.


End file.
